


pit stop

by galaxyeyedrops



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26134279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyeyedrops/pseuds/galaxyeyedrops
Summary: In retrospect, things would have been much easier if Sandalphon just showed up to graduation.
Relationships: Lucifer/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	pit stop

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this a while back for the wmtsb zine but posting now so I can feel productive. 
> 
> otherwise this would absolutely be about sanchan's zoom graduation.

Graduation, essentially speaking, is a pain in the ass.

There's rehearsal after rehearsal. A cap and gown in ugly fluorescent school colors (that he'd have to pay for out of pocket). And an incredibly long ceremony that had him sitting on hours at end. All so he could have glorious ten seconds where a tired underpaid public servant would stumble through his name? 

No thanks! After more than a dozen years in the public education system, Sandalphon was well experienced in the art of _quietly lining up with the class_. Why the hell would he spend time and money to prove it?

And so it's a couple of weeks before graduation that he informs the school he won't be attending—don't bother saving him a spot, please and thank you—and a day or two after the event itself, that he pulls up to his registered parking space in his beat up minivan. With his pass carefully secured behind the rear view mirror and the lock function on his keys pressed no less than five times, Sandalphon walks the rest of the way to the main entrance.

Before he can ring the bell to page the main office, a voice calls out to him from inside.

"Oi, Sandalphon? That you?"

Sandalphon directs his attention solely to the device by the door, and with concentration befitting a much harder task, he presses the bell. 

"There's no reason to ignore me! Look!" With a squeak of metal, the door swings open to greet him. A hand, covered to the tips of its fingers by the orange sleeves of an oversized hoodie (seasonally appropriate as always) rests on the metal handle, holding it open. "See! Just come on in!"

After some consideration, namely three whole seconds of the office not replying, Sandalphon locks eyes with his unwanted helper, and steps inside.

Taking that as an invitation, his helper continues to chatter. "So why are you back? Wasn't graduation a couple days ago? Or did you forget something here?" Tops it off with a "Haha, you're so careless, Sandalphon!"

Sandalphon purses his lips and then looks down at his junior. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Nope!" Vyrn says, popping his consonants with glee. "Finished up my test ten minutes ago so I'm free for now."

He looks at Sandalphon, expectant, stopping the well practiced _good for you_ before it has a chance to leave the other's lips. He grins as his friend gives a huff and begins to walk away, falling into step with him easily.

The main office, being _the main office_ , isn't hard to find. Smack dab in the middle of his vision, the first thing Sandalphon would see if it wasn't for a certain pest. Unfortunately, its occupants are much harder to locate. The last week of school brings with it plenty of chaos, and wrapped right in the middle of it is a person who is normally known for her semblance of order, Ms. Zooey herself.

His former vice principal—emphasis on _former_ —was a kind and responsible woman, the type that threw herself into her work, learnt every snot nosed brat's name, and actually bought her own bullshit of _we're all here to learn together_. 

Now, Sandalphon's been guilty of having positive feelings for her before (sophomore year was a dark time, don't judge) but finding out that she's been safeguarding his diploma so she can give it to him all special-like, really takes a bite out of anything that isn't exhaustion.

"She'll be back by the end of the day," a staff member says. "She's visiting all the classes she can so you might just catch her."

They punctuate the statement with a wink straight out of every single teen movie. Sandalphon sees where this is going. 

He cannot refuse any faster.

"I'll be fine," he says before they can detail exactly what kind of nonsense he'd inevitably get caught up in. "The school can mail it, right?"

When he leaves the office, its with a sense of satisfaction. Did he get the one thing he came here for? No. But will he be deprived of his educational credentials when he interviews for the juice bar at the gym next week? Also no.

According to the manager, his solid B in AP Chem was critical—and Sandalphon wasn't going to argue with people planning on paying him above the minimum wage.

It's this cheer that makes him walk with a spring in his step, prevents him from noticing that a certain underclassman isn't next to him, until the kid himself waves to him across the hall. He's accompanied by a few friends, Gran and Lyria visible in the crowd—and more notably, their missing vice principal.

"Hey Sandalphon," Vyrn says. "Look at who I found!"

The shenanigans, clearly.

* * *

When Sandalphon finally leaves the building two hours later, he does with a brand new yearbook, signatures plastered over the pages, paint all over his new band t-shirt, and three hanger-ons.

Part of this is his fault, not making enough of a fuss about how the school buses were leaving, and offering Lyria (his neighbor) a ride back, indicated a level of compliance with their plans.

Unfortunately, the plans of fifteen year olds, high off their first taste of yearly freedom, weren't good ones.

Surprisingly, it's Gran who starts it off. Having signed up for auto-tech next year, he took an interest in any and all vehicles. And that, for some reason, included Sandalphon's 2004 Honda Odyssey. 

He cooed at the possibility of checking out the working parent favorite, begging Sandalphon for a look at the screens and under the hood. _I wonder how many miles you have on it_ , he says as he gushes. And then, the damning words, _the previous owner probably had plenty of road trips._

Vyrn and Lyria perk up at this comment, and Sandalphon can do little to stop a ball that's already rolling.

Lyria's guardian, Katalina, is normally a reasonable woman. She's raised her well—the best she could on a schedule as busy as hers—often calling up Sandalphon for babysitting and rides throughout the years. It's this history and his presence that makes a sensible woman agree to what is basically an impromptu two day road trip with little prior discussion.

Vyrn's household, with it's laissez faire attitude towards child-rearing, offers no objections. Gran plasters on a smile and tells them there aren't any problems from his end either. The guilt Sandalphon feels from bringing up the boy's parent situation is soon quelled by the way his eyes sharpen the moment Sandalphon hits the unlock on his keys.

Vyrn is the first one in. He inspects the faded seats and scuffed up insides with all the enthusiasm of a craigslist buyer. His nose wrinkles after a few seconds and he pulls his head right back out to turn to Sandalphon and complain.

"What did you leave in there? It smells awful!!"

Sandalphon, approaching at a much more moderate pace, furrows his brows upon hearing and takes a detour on his way to the driver's seat. Taking his own whiff, he frowns.

"It wasn't like this before," he says. "Someone must have done something while I was out."

Vyrn raises an eyebrow. "Are ya sure? Doesn't make sense with the cameras right around the corner." 

Before Sandalphon can argue back, Gran cuts in between them.

"You're not coming, Vyrn?" he asks. "That's cool. Lyria and I can rock-paper-scissors for shotgun."

And Vyrn, forever doomed to be unable to take whatever he dishes out, bristles at the teasing. "Wait!" he says, but by the time he speaks, their match is over. Lyria stands, grinning, her winning move, scissors, transformed into a victory sign. 

Gran takes it well, smiling as he raises his hand for a high five, which Lyria eagerly returns.

He heads to the middle row while she claims the front seat and Vyrn sighs as he decides to spread out in the back.

The smell steadily grows worse. Sandalphon's AC, on full blast, can do little to counteract the aroma enhancing qualities of what was, up until recently, a hot car and with less than ten miles on the highway, they make a pit stop at a nearby Walmart. 

Sandalphon's savings take a hit as they load up with air fresheners off all kinds. Lyria loads up with aerosols, Vyrn selects a few car-specific inserts, and Gran runs off to the grocery section to grab a bag of coffee grounds, pulling an anecdote from Mr. Noa at the car dealership.

Laden with polythene bags of supplies and snacks, they all follow Sandalphon to the back of the van, intent on getting rid of this problem before heading out again.

A selection of linens greet them when they open the trunk. Some are folded, others loose and scattered from the drive. With exception made for laundry runs, Sandalphon's car is generally clutter-free, and it's because of that, he spots the dark clad figure curled up in a corner with ease.

Gran reaches into his pocket to grab his phone. _Police?_ he mouths silently but Sandalphon shakes his head. They didn't need to bother for this particular intruder.

Grabbing a stray shirt, he twists it into a makeshift rope, and then smacks it at their intruder's torso _hard_. Belial groans and stirs, so Sandalphon hits him again. 

"Mmm, Sandy...don't need to hit so _hard_ …"

Sandalphon grits his teeth. "What are you doing in my car?"

Belial twists his body to face him, his actions are lethargic from sleep but his eyes glitter. "What do you think I was doing?" he says, reaching for some sheets to prop under his head.

"Breaking and entering, for one–"

"–Wrong!" Belial interrupts, wagging a finger. "The car was unlocked. There was absolutely no breaking involved."

Sandalphon glances at his pocket, betrayed.

Belial continues, salacious as ever. "You can't blame me for seeing you so wide open and taking the invitation."

Sandalphon ignores the innuendo and takes another sniff, reassessing now that he knows Belial was involved.

"So," he addresses him, finally identifying the pungent odor. "You were the source of the smell."

Belial grins, stretching arms lazily. "It's just a bit of fun, Sandy! Have a good time with a nice honey of your own, and maybe they'll leave their musk on you too." He finishes this off with a leer, an action the has Sandalphon leaning to the side to cover Lyria's eyes.

And before the man's rage can boil over from Belial talking about doing such filthy things in _his_ van, Gran clocks in for his second shift as peacemaker. 

"Belial," he says, looking a little bit helpless. "You do know we know what weed is, right? You don't need to make up things to impress us."

Belial, for what is probably the first time in his life, shuts up. 

* * *

They decide to keep him. For the time being, of course. Belial is not allowed to move out of the trunk and has to spray himself with Febreze until he starts to cough. It's not out of any altruistic intention, but rather that Belial's habit not carrying his wallet around meant that Sandalphon would have to cover the bus fare had they kicked him out immediately. 

Besides, Lyria wanted everyone in her photographs, and they couldn't risk the landmarks they drove so far to see getting cut off in a selfie.

They blast music until they have to refuel, and then start looking at options for the night.

Lyria would get her own room, naturally. Vyrn and Gran could double up. Leaving Sandalphon to room with Belial. He had briefly considered letting him sleep in the car, but the idea of leaving him unsupervised, right after finally making the smell tolerable, made him uneasy.

They're on separate beds, a blessing—Sandalphon doesn't know what he'd do if they had to share—at a crappy motel with thin walls, when his uninvited guest thinks it's time for a conversation.

"Cillius's brother has been asking about you," he starts off.

Sandalphon stares at the ceiling. "I see."

"Pretty sure you don't. He's been moping around ever since you suddenly blocked him off everything last year."

Belial watches as his roommate's fists clench and continues light-heartedly. "You really don't mess around, don't you, Sandy? Talk about a cruel break-up…"

"It hurts to even think about, poor Lucifer, ghosted and abandoned so quickly. Without a single word."

Sandalphon's voice goes sharp. "What do you want?"

Belial grins. "I'm bored," he says. "Drink with me?"

Bars are quickly ruled out. Sandalphon is only nineteen and Belial a few months younger. No place would risk losing their alcohol license over a couple dollars. Their only option is to buy some at a store.

They drive to the nearest gas station and Sandalphon hands a passerby some cash, promising a can for the trouble. The man agrees and soon they're driving back, a few cans heavier.

He and Belial sit in the motel's parking lot, the beers in between them. Sandalphon's van is parked nearby, its trunk open to air out. The stars above hidden behind clouds.

It's easy to let loose like this, Sandalphon thinks. Belial was born an asshole, had always been an asshole, and would probably die an asshole. It's hard to feel self-conscious around him regarding his ugly thoughts and uglier emotions. What could he do? 

The man found a perverse joy in watching others crack but what could he really do about it? Judge him? Make Sandalphon feel even worse? Both were impossibilities.

He doesn't have any doubt that Belial would air out his dirty laundry eventually, he knows the man too well to ever become friends. However, there was a time—when Sandalphon dated Lucifer, and Belial mooned over Lucillius—that they thought they could become family.

Belial laughs at him the moment he accidentally blurts out the words, proving himself once again to be just as terrible as Sandalphon thought. He leaves soon enough, having his fill of fun for the day, and soon is replaced with another brunette.

"I'm not letting you have any," he tells Gran the moment the boy sits beside him, gathering up the remaining cans in his arms. "You're too young."

Gran shakes his head. "Don't worry," he says. "I'm not trying to."

Sandalphon looks at him suspiciously. He considers his options and heads to the car to pull out one of the polythene bags from earlier. He dumps the beers inside, looping the drawstrings twice and tying them tight to insure security.

"You're stopping?"

"I've had enough," Sandalphon says. "Too much drinking would mess up the drive tomorrow."

Gran nods. "I was wondering," he says. "Do you have plans for anywhere specific?"

Sandalphon narrows his eyes and turns the question back on him. "Do you?"

Gran smiles sheepishly. "I was hoping you'd give me some ideas."

 _I_ _only have bad ideas_ , Sandalphon wants to say but refrains. Instead he pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales slowly.

He opens his internet browser.

* * *

The next morning finds Sandalphon visibly grumpier but still functional. Vyrn's turn with the aux cord, his long awaited moment is cut short in favor of peace, silence, and not dying horribly in a crash. It's a difficult choice, with many tears shed over the fact that Hatsune Miku's grunge phase will not accompany the fields of corn they pass by.

Sandalphon rubs his eyes often, staving off the migraine that threatens to build underneath. Concerned, Gran and Lyria offer to take the wheel several times—no license, no deal—as does Belial, who Sandalphon rejects for the simple crime of being Belial.

They're too loud sometimes, voices rising in volume when they get excited, but for some reason, Sandalphon doesn't it mind it at all.


End file.
